Book One: The Journey Begins
(This is a fictional poetic series and short story about events that never take place and about people that have never existed. Any representation of an actual event or person is purely coincidental in nature.)
Mission seven: Mission Complete
I just returned to the home base.
This tour of duty will soon be through.
I brush my teeth and wash my face.
The captain assigned another job to do.
Quickly, I grabbed my gear off my bed.
Tonight on a rescue mission, I am sent.
I place my helmet on my head.
I walked out the door of my tent.
In my gear, my orders I find.
I was given a map to the place.
I was given stuff to cover my behind.
Then, I saw the picture of his face.
My face went quickly went to a frown.
This person was not a stranger, you see.
Thump, my backpack hits the ground.
He is an U. S. Army Ranger, like me.
To my assignment, I ran.
I must get this job done.
I sling my pack on, again.
I will to die to save this one.
When I get there, in the brush I wait.
I count all the guards walking around.
You can call it luck or call it my fate.
Three died without making a sound.
I peeped through the glass of the backdoor.
The coast was clear, so through it, I crept.
The guard had his eyes covered with a hat.
So, silently, I sliced his throat as he slept.
Cautiously, I raised my weapon.
The prisoner is asleep on the floor.
My job is now just about to be done.
I slowly open the bedroom door.
Carefully, the entire room I checked out
One more guard should be somewhere.
Just as I thought, without a doubt,
He is on the porch sitting in a chair.
Loudly, I wake my package up.
We quickly head out the back door.
Suddenly, the whole place erupts.
From a bomb left on the floor.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem